


Watch; Do

by Davechicken



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Dorian. The Iron Bull. The Chargers.The importance of other people.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Watch; Do

Dorian rests his elbows on the sticky bartop, trying to ignore the thoughts of tacky remnants he'll find in the morning. There's no real need for him to do this: there are more than enough serving wenches. He just wants the moment's peace before he goes back into the storm. 

Bull is engrossed in some tall tale he's recounting to his Chargers, one where he takes credit for things he's done, and is more than generous with his praise of the others involved. Dorian has seen it both ways, and he knows Bull is sincere when he reinforces, or praises. He's heard him sing ballads in prose about these people, who Dorian is slowly getting to know better. He's being welcomed in to this rag-tag group, and it's… nice. To be welcomed. To be teased, sure, but there's no hostility from any of them. 

The Iron Bull has vetted him as suitable, and they follow him willingly. He's passed muster, and that's that, in their eyes. 

And aren't they a delightful stew of incongruity? Apostate mages, elves, people living as the gender they are, not what they were born… They shouldn't all fit together, but they do. Maybe because they are outsiders, or maybe because people are just fucking… people. And entirely capable of getting along just fine. Not savage barbarians because they come from somewhere else. Not potential slaves. Just… people. 

People Bull has surrounded himself with, and it's clear it's not just for their skills. He cares about them, protects them. Defends them with every unconscious action as much as his deliberate choices. They matter oh so fucking much, and Dorian wonders if Bull just wanted to add him to his flock. Another broken soul, discarded by society. Another… charity case…

Which isn't fair, and is, and isn't. 

Bull… he's looking for something. It's probably not even there, where he can see it for himself. Or, if it is, it's buried beneath bluster and denial. 

Too alike, they are, at times. Only Dorian plays that he's popular, and stays alone. Bull… surrounds himself with people. People he aims to help, to please, support… love. As if by fixing them, he might somehow mend his own hurts. 

Bull might be a spy, and a damn good one, but Dorian is a gay Tevinter Altus. And to survive as one, he's had to learn certain… skills in reading people. 

It isn't even just about whether someone is interested or not, he's had to balance that against the world. Did the man in question even know he was also interested in other men? Was he open to it? Was it safe to make an overture? Could he escape intact if things went wrong?

He'd avoided any physical repercussions, over the years. Gotten better at the double-speak, the laughing, disarming comments covering over his own hurt. 

There'd only been one major failure to understand, and it's one that will haunt him to the grave. A fraught, hopeful confession. A father hissing at him to tell no one, no one, not even his mother. Muttering, sotto voce questions. How did this happen? What did we do wrong? How can we fix this? What if we find a wife who will ignore it?

Ignore it. Hide it. Change it. 

Dorian remembers feeling sick. Remembers drinking himself into oblivion. Crying, and hiding, and wondering what he can do with the rest of a life that's so clearly ruined. Torn between love and loyalty, and… who he'd always known he was. 

He should have known better, but love… love made him stupid enough to think he could still belong. 

So he watches. He watches as Krem is lifted onto a horn, and Bull shouts for another to join in what appears to be a flagon jousting competition. He hears the roaring laughter, and he knows it's no lie. 

The Iron Bull has made this family, bit by bit. Somewhere safe. Somewhere happy. Even if he isn't, always. Even if Dorian knows he sometimes stares out at the sea and presses his lips tight. That there's ghosts no necromancer called to follow him around. That there's still pain in him, and maybe there always will be. 

But they are alike. Not perfectly, but enough. And if helping others helps Bull feel better… then it's really not selfless of Dorian to want to do the same, is it? They both benefit, that way. 

Plus. It's about time the big guy had someone watching over him. Dorian grins at his own cleverness, and tips the barmaid to bring the rest of the ale across. 

He's been watching for too long. Now it's time to do.


End file.
